by Sarah Helen Whitman

Tell him I lingered alone on the shore,
Where we parted, in sorrow, to meet never more;
The night wind blew cold on my desolate heart,
But colder those wild words of doom,
"Ye must part?"

O'er the dark, heaving waters, I sent forth a cry;
Save the wail of those waters there came no reply.
I longed, like a bird, o'er the billows to flee,
From our lone island home and the moan of the sea:

Away–far away–from the wild ocean shore,
Where the waves ever murmur, "No more, never more;"
Where I wake, in the wild noon of midnight, to hear
That lone song of the surges, so mournful and drear.

When the clouds that now veil from us heaven's fair light,
Their soft, silver lining turn forth on the night;
When time shall the vapors of falsehood dispel,
He shall know if I loved him, but never how well.


by Edgar Allan Poe 

Thou wast that all to me, love,
    For which my soul did pine–
A green isle in the sea, love,
    A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
    And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
    Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
    A voice from out the Future cries,
"On! On\"–but o'er the Past
      (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me
    The light of Life is o'er!
"No more–no more–no more–"
(Such language holds the solemn sea
    To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
    Or the stricken eagle soar!

Alas! for that accursed time
    They bore thee o'er the billow
From Love–to titled age and crime,
    And an unholy pillow–
From me, and from our misty clime
    Where weeps the silver willow!

And all my days are trances,
    And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
    And where they footstep gleams–
In what ethereal dances,
    By what eternal streams.



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